Missing Piece
by AxCfangirl
Summary: "You still...love her, don't you?" "What..." Athrun blinked. He knew whom Meyrin was talking about, but didn't understand why she was bringing HER into this. Post-GSD
1. in the dark

**A/N** : This is a bit AU-ish, inconsistent with the series (and my other fics).

 **WARNING** : This fic contains Athrun x Cagalli, Athrun x Meyrin, and Cagalli x OC.

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English is not my first language. Please bear with grammatical errors.

And for your information, my fic is based on the remastered version (but I watched the original version, too).

 **Disclaimer: I don't own GS/GSD.**

* * *

 **Missing Piece**

* * *

"Are you all right, Athrun-san?"

Hearing his girlfriend's voice, Athrun looked up from the book he had not been really reading.

"I mean...you look like you're feeling down. So I wondered if there's something wrong at work, or something like that?" Meyrin explained. She appeared to have come out of his kitchen after washing the dishes and found him lost in thought.

He gently smiled at her. "Nothing is wrong. Don't worry. I'm all right."

Actually, she had guessed it right. He had been thinking about a trouble in the workplace: one of his co-workers was acting unfriendly toward him and it was causing some delay in the project they were both taking part in. But he didn't want to trouble her with his problems. He shouldn't be such a weak man who made his girlfriend, whom he was supposed to protect and look after, worried or upset because of his problem. Especially a soft, meek girlfriend like his. Besides, he didn't think his current situation was worth mentioning anyway. The problem would probably go away if he just waited patiently as usual.

She looked down with a frown, then glanced at him as if wanting to say something more. But she didn't say anything, and he looked back at the book in his hands and tried to concentrate on reading it. He wasn't the type to pry. Plus, if she didn't feel the need to say it, then it probably wasn't a big deal.

However, it seemed like it was, since after a little while, she went on to complain and interrupt his reading, to his surprise actually. "You're always like that."

"What?" He looked at her with a blank face.

"You always say nothing's wrong." She almost sounded like she was blaming him for doing something bad.

He replied with confusion, "That's because it's true." Just because he had some troubles at work, it didn't mean there was something wrong, something he needed to tell her.

She bit her lip and looked down again.

He was about to go back to reading the book, which he needed to finish before tomorrow's work started, when she spoke again in a low voice. "But there's something wrong...with us."

He shifted his eyes from the book to her once again. "What are you talking about?"

She hesitated before saying, "You still...love her, don't you?"

"What..." He blinked at the unexpected turn of the conversation. He knew whom Meyrin was talking about, but didn't understand why she was bringing _her_ into this.

"Why would you say that?" he asked with a frown.

She averted her eyes, pursing her lips.

After a minute of silence, he reluctantly opened his mouth. "She and I are still friends. Just because people broke up, it doesn't mean they don't care about each other anymore, you know." He felt somewhat uncomfortable. He wasn't used to talking about his feelings. He especially didn't want to talk about this. But if there was a misunderstanding, he should clear it up. "I thought you understood."

"I can understand if you wanna stay friends with her. But that's not all. You still love her as more than a friend."

Honestly, he didn't know what to reply. It was true she—Cagalli—was one of the most important people to him, more important than other friends of his, except for Kira perhaps. When feeling dejected, he often thought about her; the memories of her warmed his heart and gave him the will and strength to keep hanging on. Although it was sometimes painful for him to talk to her, or even see her or hear her voice, it was heartening to know that she was still there fighting, like an imperishable fire in the darkness.

But it was nothing wrong, was it? It wasn't like he was cheating on his girlfriend with her. He would never engage in such an immoral act. Neither would Cagalli. They didn't even see each other face-to-face often, only once in several months or less, and Meyrin was present most of the times they met, whether at work or Reverend Malchio's island or their mutual friends' houses. Not to mention Meyrin had always known about their past and present relationships; although he had never told her about it, she had mentioned she was aware of his history with Cagalli even before they had started dating. It wasn't like anything had changed between him and Cagalli since then.

Why did Meyrin have to worry or complain about Cagalli? He had broken up with her and was dating Meyrin now. It was simply irrational.

"But you are my girlfriend, not she. What's the problem?" After a pause, he asked with a deepened frown, "Are you suggesting I should cut off all contacts with her? You know I can't do it. She is my friend as I told you. You are friends with her, too. I thought you liked her."

"I do," Meyrin said bitterly. "She's a good person. Kind and generous and selfless. Working hard for her country and the peace."

"She is," he agreed. "Then why are you having a problem with my relationship with her?"

She didn't answer, and after several moments, he moved his eyes back to the book, stifling a sigh. He would prefer it if she clearly said she had gotten his point instead of silently admitting it. Well, it wasn't a big problem, though. He was fine as long as she stopped worrying and complaining unnecessarily.

A few peaceful minutes passed. Then, she suddenly shouted, "Because you still love her!"

It caused him to look up with surprise. He found her staring at him almost desperately.

"You...you still love her more than me. More than anyone. I'm your girlfriend, yes, but am I really part of your life? I feel like an outsider. You never let me in your life—in your heart."

He stared at her who was breathing hard. He didn't know how to respond. She had never acted like this before. It felt to him like she had suddenly turned into a different person, which made him uncomfortable.

He admitted that he had never felt for Meyrin what he had had—or still had—for Cagalli. But wasn't it just natural? The two women were quite different. His relationships with them were different, too. Then his feelings for them were supposed to be different, weren't they?

Not to mention he didn't want the feelings or the relationships to be the same. If he wanted to have with Meyrin the same thing he had had with Cagalli, why would he date Meyrin instead of Cagalli, or at least someone more like Cagalli, in the first place? It wasn't what he wanted from his relationship with Meyrin.

He himself didn't really have a problem with the relationship. It was easy to be with Meyrin. She usually let him do as he pleased. She hardly complained about his busy schedule; she left him alone when he needed some time by himself, which wasn't rare. She had never tried to meddle in his affairs or argue with him until now, and what she had asked of him, like a gift or a date, was mostly easy to give. He had been able to have a quiet, peaceful life with her, which he wanted.

She was also very eager to help him: cleaning up his room, doing his laundry, preparing his meals, and taking care of other chores and errands. Not that he couldn't do them himself. He was used to taking care of himself, and could handle those stuff quite fine without her. But he appreciated her willingness to help, her effort to fill her role as a girlfriend, and he duly repaid her by giving things girls liked or taking her to places girls liked from time to time, always treating her the way a gentleman should treat his girlfriend.

He had been trying to be a proper boyfriend. He even slept with her though he didn't really want to. Well, he didn't dislike having sex, but he didn't find it as good as everyone made it seem. He was fine with not doing it. Not that he revealed it to anyone; he was aware it wasn't how a man should feel.

It was about half a year after they had started dating that she had brought up the matter for the first time. Or more like had implied. He had not been able to understand what she was talking about; her sister had explained to him later what his girlfriend was wishing to have.

He had not wanted to sleep together before marriage—which he had been taught was inappropriate—and told her so. However, Meyrin had kept insinuating; Lunamaria had kept pushing him. And he had given in eventually, thinking that if it was what a normal couple was supposed to do as the sisters said and his girlfriend wanted it, he probably had to give it to her; it was his duty as her boyfriend to please her.

It had also been partly because of his guilt. He always felt he was indebted to Meyrin. She had had to defect from ZAFT and experience unnecessary hardships because of him. She had chosen to stay in Orb instead of going back to PLANT after the war and then, when he had left the military and started a new job in Morgenrote, she had followed suit. She had admitted later that it was all because of him, and he felt bad that he had caused her to wander from one place to another meaninglessly. Of course it wasn't that he had asked her to follow him, but he still felt responsible for her situation. He felt obligated to compensate for it, and wanted her to be satisfied with their relationship at least.

He wasn't sure she enjoyed sex any more than he did or he did it right. But she appeared happy for a while after they did it, which made him feel relieved, and seemed to like it enough to urge him into sleeping with her again though indirectly. Although he felt a different kind of guilt—and emptiness—after having sex, at least he could say he was doing what he should do and it consoled him enough.

He thought he had been filling his role as a boyfriend well enough, properly looking after her and paying his debt. However, she didn't seem to agree.

A torrent of words was coming out of her mouth as if a dam inside her had broken. "Everyone says I'm lucky to have such a wonderful boyfriend. Gorgeous and having a good job and excellent at work and a gentleman. And I don't deny it. It's not like you treat me bad or anything. You're always kind and gentle. But...it's just—it feels so—so distant..." she said beseechingly.

"Meyrin, can you be more specific? What do you want from me?" he asked with a frustrated sigh. Her words were so incoherent, and they were wasting time which he could spend reading the book and preparing for work instead of having this seemingly pointless conversation.

One of the things about her he didn't like was that she tended to say things in a vague, roundabout way, and become disappointed when he didn't get the hint. He often wished she were more straightforward—like Cagalli. It would be much more efficient and timesaving if she outright said exactly what she expected of him. It wasn't like he was unwilling to correct his behavior if there was anything inappropriate about it.

She looked at him with a seemingly hopeless face, which he couldn't understand at all.

He patiently waited for her response, and after several minutes, she said tiredly with a lowered gaze, "I wanna break up."

He widened his eyes. He had no idea how their conversation had led to this. The new subject seemed to have come from out of the blue. Then again, this entire conversation seemed to have just appeared from nowhere.

"I can't do this anymore. I can't bear anymore watching you thinking about her when I'm right next to you. I thought...I thought it'd change eventually. If I became an ideal girlfriend."

She took a shaky breath before saying in a pained voice, "But you never loved me." It wasn't a question.

"I...care about you." He forced the words out of his mouth. Even if he didn't feel comfortable saying it, he had to comfort her, take care of her. It was his duty.

Although his words sounded a little awkward, it wasn't a lie.

"I know," she replied in a bitter and weary voice. "You always did. Even during the Second War. But it's different." She forced a smile, her lips shaking. "Maybe I'm asking too much. Maybe I'm too impatient. But I can't keep doing this anymore, Athrun-san. I can't just keep waiting, especially when I see no hope. It's killing me."

Turning her face away from him, she continued as if talking to herself, "I knew you agreed to date me just because of guilt or gratitude...or maybe pity? I don't know. I just knew it wasn't love, and yes, I said it was all right if you didn't love me. But I hoped..." Her voice trailed off.

He stared at her, recalling the beginning of their relationship. It had not been easy for him after breaking up with Cagalli. He had suffered from the feeling of loneliness, of loss.

But Meyrin had been around to distract him, and after a while, asked him to be her boyfriend, to give her a chance. He had thought it might help him move on while he could pay back some of his debts to her by doing this. Not to mention she had appeared rather desperate, appeared to need him very much—unlike Cagalli.

Thus he had started dating Meyrin. It felt good to have someone to look after, someone who needed his care and protection. Although he still felt lonely now and then, it wasn't hard to ignore it as he could busy and distract himself with his work and the new relationship. The loneliness had simply become a part of his life, of him.

You didn't need to passionately love someone to be in a relationship with that person, right? It wasn't wrong to do it because of other feelings, like gratitude or loneliness. It wasn't like he had lied to Meyrin, and even if he didn't love her, he cared about her and liked her. He had been doing what he should do and what he could do for her.

Shouldn't it be enough? They had had a good, peaceful relationship after all. She herself had admitted that everyone said he was doing well as a boyfriend. Then she should be satisfied, shouldn't she? Why did she want more, especially despite having said otherwise? Why did she suddenly go back on her word and want to break up with him?

She continued, "I guess I was just being wishful. Deluding myself I could change you. But you never looked at me the way I want you to...the way you always look at her." Lowering her voice even further, she added, "Sometimes I can't help but think...maybe you never actually saw me even."

He kept his mouth shut. He didn't even know exactly what she was talking about, let alone the right response.

Exhaling a long sigh, she looked back at him, tears in her eyes, which made him feel bad—guilty. He felt he had to do something, but he didn't know what he should do, what his fault was.

"I'm sorry. But I can't be happy with you. And I don't think you can be happy with me, either."

He automatically returned, "I'm not unhappy with you." At least that was what he knew and could say.

"Then can you say you're happy now?"

"I...think so," he said a little hesitantly.

His co-workers often said he must be happy to have a pretty and dutiful girlfriend who always put him first; his job was also a good one, challenging and stable with good salaries. Without any real troubles or burdens, his life seemed to be a happy one, indeed.

Only he didn't really feel so. Looking around him, he regularly felt his world was so dull, almost empty. He didn't think it had always been like that. It felt as if something was missing, something that had been once here, something important. But he didn't know what.

Yet, it didn't mean he wasn't happy. Right?

Meyrin let out a tired, humorless laugh. "Of course you do. You _think_ you're happy when you don't _feel_ happy."

He knitted his eyebrows with confusion. But she didn't seem willing to elaborate.

"You know what? Cagalli-san once said, you can be quite childish even though you appear mature. I think I understand it now."

Despite his guilt and discomfort, he felt irritated that Meyrin kept dragging Cagalli into their conversation. She really should keep Cagalli out of this, leave her alone. He didn't say it, though. He didn't want to hurt Meyrin's feelings and make her even more upset. Plus, he suspected it would only cause her to talk more about Cagalli, which he didn't like. Not in front of him. Not about him and Cagalli. He wanted no one to do it.

Neither he nor Meyrin said anything while she collected her belongings. Before leaving his room, she looked at him as if expecting him to say or do something. But he didn't know what she expected, what she wanted from him, what was the right response, and so stayed silent and still.

She sadly looked down, quietly said goodbye, and left.

As soon as the door closed and hid her figure from his sight, he released a deep sigh and sank into the sofa.

Reluctantly, he thought that at least part of what she had said might be true: he had not really been a good boyfriend. He knew he was supposed to be feeling hurt and distressed after breaking up with his girlfriend.

But he wasn't, he had to admit. He was mostly confused and weary, and somewhat feeling lonely and guilty. A part of him was actually relieved that he didn't have to deal with those confusing words of hers anymore. He still couldn't understand most of them.

He didn't feel like chasing after her and asking, though. What was the point anyway? She had at least made it clear that she wanted to end their relationship. Then, he should let her. If that was what she wanted. If she didn't need him or want him anymore.

And honestly, he wasn't eager to go talk to her even if he should. He would just have to hear what he couldn't understand again, get accused of not making her happy, of failing to meet her expectations. He had no idea how to fix the problem, and he couldn't find the motivation to try. It seemed like too much trouble for nothing. It was probably better for the both of them to just end the matter here.

Sighing again, he picked up the book he had unconsciously put on the sofa during the conversation with his girlfriend—ex-girlfriend. No matter what happened in his private life, the work wouldn't wait and he had a book to finish.

Actually, reading seemed like nothing but a good idea right now. It could distract him, and he could expect at least this to be peaceful and understandable.

* * *

He lifted his hand to knock the door. But it stopped before making a contact, and he stared at the very familiar door of Cagalli's study. Once he knocked and entered, there was no turning back.

A part of him was feeling like making up an excuse and leaving; another part wanted to get in the room so that he could talk with her alone.

After all, this was their first time to meet in private since he had come back from space. He had gotten to see her and exchange a few words with her during the ceremony to welcome the Orb forces that had fought in the final battle of the war and confer the decorations to some of the soldiers including him. But it had been an official meeting, and even when they could talk more unofficially along with their friends, both of them had kept their conversation casual and light, putting off the unavoidable.

Until today.

A few days ago, she had asked him via e-mail to come to her home to talk, and he had agreed.

Yes, he had agreed. And he should stick to his word. It was the right thing to do.

Telling himself so, he finally knocked. "Come in." Her voice came after a few heartbeats and he opened the door.

"Thanks for coming." Standing up from her chair, Cagalli gave him a little tense smile. He forced his own.

As he walked across the room toward her desk, she came around it. He stopped in front of her, two steps away, farther than usual. He wanted to be close—closer—to her, but it didn't seem to him to be appropriate to go nearer, considering what they were going to talk about.

She silently gazed at him, examining his appearance. He did the same with her. She looked tired; she appeared to have become somewhat paler and thinner during the months he had spent away from her. Not that it was surprising. Even though the war had ended, she was still fighting a different kind of battle, which she was probably going to fight always—even if he wasn't at her side.

He had already known it, but knowing it didn't take away the pain from the thought. She didn't need him. Not really. Not as much as he wanted her to. Not in the way he wanted her to.

His gaze wandered toward her empty finger. His heart constricted. Even though he had seen it several times already, the sight was still painful and he had to force his eyes back to her face.

She was checking his body as if trying to make sure, again, that he had no injuries. Her expression softened into relief, then hardened into determination, which caused his body to tighten. He dreaded the expression, yet somehow couldn't take his eyes off her face.

She turned her eyes to his face.

"I should've talked with you about this earlier...before I took off the ring." She got straight to the point, and he felt half glad, half bitter. As much as he didn't want to talk about irrelevant stuff when they both knew what was coming, he didn't want this time to end so soon.

"I know I hurt you. I'm sorry," she said with sincerity.

He just shook his head no. He understood why she had not talked to him, and he didn't blame her for it. He knew she was as sad about this as he was. Or at least sad enough to need some time to prepare herself for the talk. Sad enough to be afraid that this talk would disturb her and interfere with properly carrying out her duties and to want to wait until the situation became relatively calm. He knew it.

Yet, he didn't feel like saying it was all right, either. He couldn't feel it was all right. Not exactly about her having taken off his ring. It was much more than that. This was about much more than a ring. This was never about the ring.

"It's not like I don't want to be with you anymore. I..." She took a long breath. "I still do." She continued in a sad, yet steady voice, "But I can't abandon Orb for you. I can't choose you over Orb—as you want me to."

He had known her answer, but hearing it still hurt. More than hearing about her wedding had. With Jona, he had at least known she loved him more than the man and would choose him if she could have her way. Even though he had hated the fact she was engaged to someone else, he had never really felt threatened by the man.

It was Orb that had threatened him. It had always been about Orb. The country was the reason why she had accepted the engagement in the first place. It was the reason why she had agreed to actually marry that man. And it was the reason why she was breaking up with him now.

This was a completely different matter from the wedding. No one was forcing her. No one was threatening her. No one was manipulating her. She had the freedom to choose, and still wouldn't choose him. She wouldn't choose him _because_ she was free to choose what she wanted.

And it was what he had been afraid of.

"I want to be with you, too," he slowly said. "But...I can't." _I_ _can_ _'_ _t accept Orb always comes first for you_ _._ He couldn't accept she put Orb before him.

He didn't elaborate, but she seemed to understand what he had left unsaid. His keen eyes didn't miss the flash of pain that crossed her face.

A part of him hoped the pain would make her ask him to change his mind, or even beg him to stay with her. Even though he knew it wouldn't happen.

She wouldn't say it, say what he wanted her to say. As she hadn't when he left for PLANT before the war, which was the final factor for his decision to give her the ring. As she hadn't when they met on the cliff in the middle of the war even though she looked almost desperate enough. As she hadn't when the Archangel left Orb for space in the end of the war, appearing so tough and showing no sign of missing him.

He knew and admired her strength, but he couldn't help wishing she were weaker, weak enough to be unable to fight without him, weak enough to say she would do anything, give up anything, if he stayed.

But she wasn't and wouldn't be. She wouldn't be what he wanted her to be.

She wouldn't give him what he wanted.

Instead, she squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, exhaled a long breath and took another, the way she did when trying to calm herself, then said, "I understand."

Her face and voice were colored with melancholy and loneliness, but there was no surprise, or disappointment. It seemed like she had known his answer and already come to terms with it before actually hearing it.

Her eyes looking at him were accepting as always, which made him half relieved and half unsettled. The feelings she had been stirring inside him were so conflicting and he couldn't really figure out what he was feeling right now. Not that he tried hard. He was rather trying not to feel them, bury them deep. He had never liked being emotional, feeling emotions.

"Then, I believe I should return this to you."

She turned her body to grab a small box on her desk, which he had been trying not to look at: a ring case. She took a step toward him and held it out to him.

What was in the box was a representation of his vain hope that she might choose him over Orb.

Probably, he had always known deep down that the hope of his was vain. After all, he had seen at first hand how much she loved Orb. For about two years, he had been by her side, closer to her than anyone else, watching her devote herself to her work, to protecting Orb. Which he had not been happy about. As much as he understood the importance of her job, it frustrated him that she always placed Orb before him.

When she had accepted the ring, he had thought that his patient support finally bore fruit, finally reached her and succeeded to change her. That she would start to give more care to him than to Orb. It wasn't that he had expected everything to change quickly. He had just wanted her to promise that she was willing to change, to accept his wish.

Only to find out that it was a delusion. That she wouldn't do as he hoped. Again and again.

He had wanted her to choose him even if it meant breaking the engagement that she believed was necessary to protect Orb, even if it meant giving up the power she needed to protect Orb—giving up protecting Orb.

He had wanted her to follow his words even if it meant leaving the Orb forces alone to be eliminated—giving up protecting the people she wanted to protect.

He wanted her to stop for his sake instead of moving forward, leaving him behind, for Orb's sake. He wanted her to look at him. He wanted her to focus more on him, pay more attention to him, like she used to before becoming the Chief Representative. He wanted her to place him first, place him before everything else like she had when she came to prevent him from sacrificing his life at the risk of everything she had including her own life. Telling him to not die, to not go, with tears, she had seemed to desperately need him.

He wanted her to return to that, to how she had been.

Why couldn't she do it?

Why couldn't she follow his lead and let him protect her? Why couldn't she stay behind him and let him fight for her instead of fighting herself? Why couldn't she just wait for him in a safe place while he was fighting and welcome him back and praise him after the fighting? Like she had done during and after the Junius Seven incident. Despite being troubled by the matter of his father's legacy, he had felt happy, and proud.

But it had been just a fleeting moment. Once they were back in Orb, she had gone into the political battle, leaving him behind. She had chosen to go to the place where he couldn't protect her. She had not even wanted him by her side, not asked him to stay, when he told her he was going to PLANT. And she had decided to get married instead of waiting for him to come back with the power he had acquired, the power he could have used to save her from the Sarans if she had not made such rush and foolish decisions.

Then, she had refused to return to Orb, a safe place away from the war, and wait for him to end the war as he had told her to; she had chosen to keep interfering with battles for the sake of the Orb forces, keep getting in his way.

Things in their relationship seemed to always go wrong, go the way he didn't want them to go, once the matter of Orb came up. Orb always came between them, breaking them apart, because she let it. Because she put it before their relationship, before him.

They had to break up even though neither of them wanted to. All because of Orb.

They could be together. They could be happy. If she just chose him over Orb. It wasn't like she had to completely abandon Orb. She could still protect it, just not in the way she had been doing, just not the extent she had been doing. As long as she didn't let Orb interfere with their relationship, he wouldn't mind letting her work and care for the country. As long as she placed him first and Orb remained second. As long as she listened to him.

But she wouldn't see his point or correct her behavior, change her decision.

So they had no other choice. He had no other choice.

Slowly and reluctantly, hating he had to do this, he reached out for the ring case. Their hands touched, and he slightly widened his eyes at the coldness of her hand, in stark contrast to her warm eyes.

It stirred something in him and he felt like grabbing her hand and warming it with his. He felt like hugging her.

But he suppressed the urge with all his might. It wouldn't change anything anyway. It wouldn't make her change her mind. It wouldn't make her give him what he wanted. It was meaningless. It would only make this more difficult for both of them, he told himself.

Pulling his hand back, he felt even bitterer, and squeezed the ring case until his hand hurt. He didn't want to take it. He didn't want to have it. He didn't want to even look at it. It felt as if it was his broken heart that was in his hand.

He had wanted to believe that if she knew how much he loved her, she would change. But it wasn't true, the proof of which was in his hand. It wouldn't change anything how much he wanted her. It didn't matter how much he wanted her to be with him, how much he wanted her to change. His feelings didn't matter. As his actions didn't.

No matter what he did, he couldn't make her need him enough. He couldn't make her love him enough. Staying by her side and providing her with comfort hadn't. Giving her a ring hadn't. Fighting to keep her safe and restore the peace she cherished hadn't. Fighting to protect Orb and the Earth hadn't.

No matter what he did for her, it didn't matter. Nothing he did could make her do what he wanted her to do. She still didn't choose him and there was nothing he could do about it. He had no power to change her. He had no power to make her do anything, be anything.

It was the cold truth that hurt. It was the truth that he couldn't accept.

"Thank you for everything. For the ring, too," she quietly said, placing her arm down to her side.

He shifted his gaze back to her face, to her eyes, and felt uneasy. It wasn't because her eyes were shinning with tears. It was something more. He felt something had changed with her eyes. Like something had gone from them during this short time.

Like a piece of her feelings for him had disappeared.

"I'm sorry that I misunderstood you," she continued, "and that I can't accept it. Still, I was—am glad you gave it to me."

The uneasy feeling grew and grew as he heard her words and gazed at her eyes. He hoped her tears would fall on her cheeks. Then he could find an excuse to touch her, to hug her even. She was now only an arm's length away.

Then, maybe he could understand this mysterious feeling inside him, the feeling that something was missing from her eyes looking at him. Maybe he could find out what he was missing.

But she didn't let the tears fall. And he couldn't allow himself to move on his own, not when she didn't want him, not when she didn't need him.

His eyes just bored into hers as he desperately tried to figure out what it was that wasn't there.

It wasn't love. It wasn't affection. It wasn't understanding. It wasn't acceptance. It wasn't caring. It wasn't compassion. It wasn't sincerity. It wasn't kindness. There seemed to be everything he wanted from her in those amber eyes. He could see it, and knew he was right. Her eyes were always honest.

And yet, it seemed lacking. It didn't seem enough for him.

...Maybe because it wasn't. It wasn't enough that she loved him. She didn't love him enough. Maybe it was just that the knowledge was causing this weird feeling.

Her eyelids dropped, coming between his eyes and hers. For several moments, she stayed like that. Then, opening her eyes again, she looked him in the eye, which she often did. He always felt as if she could look straight into his heart, his soul, with those firm and deep eyes of hers.

"Take care of yourself, all right? And...be happy." Her eyes were still moist, but her smile was genuinely warm and caring.

He just stared. It felt so wrong. He felt like something was completely wrong, like he was making a big mistake.

He felt an urge to say something, though he wasn't sure what he wanted to say. But something was coming out of his mouth, out from deep inside him, and he had to let it out. He needed to let her know. He needed to—

A beep came from the phone on her desk. She turned around and pushed a button to speak with the person on the line.

A man's voice said, "Chief Representative, I'm sorry for interrupting, but there is something you should see."

"Okay, I'm coming." Cutting the connection, she turned an apologetic face to him. "Sorry. I have to go."

He stared at her, who looked like nothing but a strong leader dedicated to her job, which she was. Awkwardly, he nodded his head. He didn't know what else to do.

As she walked past him, he was restless, still feeling that something was wrong and that he needed to do something. A part of him desperately wanted to stop her, wanted her to wait until he figured out. Or maybe he simply didn't want her to go, despite knowing she would anyway. Despite knowing she would choose to go and handle a matter concerning Orb rather than to stay with him, stop for him.

Then, she stopped, a few steps before the door. And turned to face him—as if she had sensed his inner struggle. His heart fluttered.

She looked at him for a moment, which he felt was so long and so short. She just looked at him. Nothing more. Nothing less. As if she was taking in everything about him. As if she was cherishing everything about him.

And he just hoped this moment would never end.

But then, she gave him a gentle smile, which was a mixture of warmth and sadness, one last time.

"Goodbye, Athrun."

Turning around, she resumed walking forward, her back straight and her steps unhesitant. She didn't look back again.

His feet glued to where he was, he kept staring at her retreating back and then at the door which separated him from her, unable to say anything. He didn't even know what he had wanted to say. It had slipped away from his grasp.

* * *

As he came out of the woods, the wind tousled his hair. Walking across the beach to the edge of the sea, he inhaled the salty air.

He was visiting Reverend Malchio's island to attend Kira and Lacus's wedding party. They had gotten engaged around the time he and Meyrin had broken up, and were getting married in a few days.

Since Lacus had resigned her job several months ago and the couple wanted to make the ceremony a cozy one, they had decided to have it on the island with only people close to them. As the best man, Athrun had come to the island earlier than most guests and had been helping the couple for last few days.

He quietly exhaled a long breath before sitting on the sand. He was planning to stay here for a while, maybe until dusk. He was a little tired; the tasks that had been assigned to him were done, and there wasn't much more he could help. So he had discreetly left and come here to have some rest.

The sky was cloudy; the sea was dark. It wasn't a pleasant scenery to look at, but he liked the quiet of the beach than the festive air at the orphanage.

Not to mention he could avoid Kira's questions here. During these months after his breakup with Meyrin, Kira seemed to have been concerned about him and tried to talk with him about the breakup. But he had always dismissed Kira's concern. Partly because he didn't want to ruin the good time of his best friend; Kira seemed busy enough without getting involved with Athrun's problem. And most of all, he didn't know what to say, or even whether he wanted to talk about it, as he hadn't when he had broken up with Cagalli and Kira had tried to talk with him about it as well.

Probably Kira would eventually cease asking this time as he had before if he kept dodging the question, Athrun hoped. It probably would be best for both of them.

Hearing casual footsteps, he turned his head to find Cagalli walking toward him.

He felt something stir inside him at the sight of her. He couldn't figure out what it was, but knew that it wasn't a surprise and that the feeling wasn't unpleasant. Nor her presence here.

He quietly regarded her as she walked over the beach. They had not talked much since she had arrived at the island this morning. Or since long before.

Although they occasionally saw each other, it was usually brief. And they had not really seen each other for some time, more than half a year. She had been busy partly because of Lacus's resignation and of her brother and best friend's wedding, of which she was the maid of honor.

Furthermore, there had been an assassination attempt on her last month which had caused her some injuries. The news had unsettled him, reminding him of the usual thought he dwelled on: If only she had let him protect her. At least, though, her injuries had not been serious according to Kira, and she had seemed fine enough on TV, which brought him several feelings besides relief. But he had not wanted to think about those feelings and had quickly buried them deep.

Another reason why they had not had much contact recently was that he had been rather avoiding her after his breakup with Meyrin, somehow afraid of seeing her. But he didn't feel like avoiding her now. A part of him was even hoping she would stay for a while.

Maybe he had been waiting, or at least hoping, for her to come.

"Hey, we were wondering where you were," she said lightly, stopping at his side.

"Ah...I needed some air."

As she sat next to him, he looked back at the sea. After a moment, however, he shifted his eyes to her, sensing that hers were on him.

She was regarding him with a concerned face. Her intent eyes looked into his, and he instinctively gazed back into them. The amber eyes seemed to have not changed at all since the time when they had still been together, or even the time when they had just met.

He stared as if all his attention was drawn to her eyes, to her. Her eyes were so deep, so bright.

He couldn't remember the last time he looked at someone like this, straight into their eyes without feeling the slightest need or desire to avert his. He felt it was a long time ago. It might be when they had parted ways.

He felt his body become somewhat lighter. There was something about her eyes, or just her, that made him relax.

After a moment of sharing a gaze, which felt like hours to him, she opened her mouth. "I heard about you and Meyrin. I'm sorry it didn't work out between you." Her voice was filled with sincerity and concern, her words simple and straight. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah..." He hesitated a little, but started talking anyway. "I just don't understand what I did wrong. Why she was dissatisfied with me. I thought we were doing fine, but suddenly she said I wasn't making her happy and broke up with me.

"And I'm all right with it if it's what she wants. But I'm still confused and...sometimes I feel a little like a failure..." The words flowed out smoothly, which wasn't usual for him. It felt good to be able to complain, reveal his vulnerability, and he realized he had not done it for a long time.

With sympathy and earnestness, she listened, and said, "Maybe you just need time. It's not easy to understand someone else's reason right away, you know. Not for anyone. Probably you can understand her better when you talk with her next time."

She touched his arm reassuringly. "Don't get too depressed, okay? It will get better. I'm sure you'll find a way to your happiness. You can do it." She smiled a warm smile, caring and worrying about him. As always.

The smile squeezed his chest. He felt like he was drawn to her, and he pulled her into a hug without thinking.

She was still for a moment, but then, circled her arms around him and accepted his hug. "There, there. It's all right. It'll be all right," she softly said, giving gentle pats to his back.

Her body was soft, yet firm, securely supporting his. She was warm and comforting in his arms.

He felt connected. He felt safe, completely safe, for the first time in years, for the first time after breaking up with her. He felt everything he had locked away—which he had not realized he had—was freed. He felt a hole inside him—which he had not known existed—was filled. He felt the coldness that had been enveloping him—which he had not been aware of—was gone.

He felt as if everything was all right.

After a while, he slowly pulled back though he didn't really want to. But he also wanted to see her face, her eyes.

She too pulled back to study his face with a worried frown, which he remembered so well.

"You really should let out your feelings more often. It's not healthy to bottle up everything inside you," she reprimanded him, just as she used to.

He gazed into her eyes. Those eyes had not changed at all: warm, accepting, clear, deep, sincere, bright, and firm. Glowing like gold, as if there was a fire burning in them, in her.

They were the eyes he had fallen in love with. This was the girl he had loved—the woman he loved.

As if on cue, the sun broke through a cloud, throwing a ray of light at them, which brightened up her hair, face, and eyes like she was in fact radiating. It was as if the sun appeared from behind dark clouds in his world as well, shinning on what he had not been able to see and lighting up his world so vividly.

He had finally found the answer. It was these feelings, this passion, she stirred in him that had been missing from his world and life. She was what he had been missing, what he had been yearning for. Someone he could feel truly connected and happy with. Someone who touched and moved his heart in the way nothing else could.

She was the light of his life, the sun of his world. He wanted her. He needed her.

He opened his mouth. He needed to tell her how he felt.

"Cagalli."

Before he said anything, however, someone else called out to her.

Her eyes shifted from him to a man coming toward them. She lifted a hand with a surprised, but happy smile, her eyes shining.

"Hey, I thought you couldn't make it until tomorrow morning," she said with some excitement. "How did you know I was here anyway?"

She stood up to take a step toward the man, leaving him behind. Then another. And another. Yet another. Until she and the man met halfway, engaging in a hug.

"Well, our capable secretary, with help from my generous boss, kicked me out of the clinic. It's another proof they love you more than they love me," the man said jokingly, then added, "So I got here early, and Lacus said, you're probably on the beach."

"Ah, remind me to return love to them later," she replied in the same manner, "and by the way, my offer still stands. I'll give you training anytime so people won't kick your ass as often. Or push you around."

"And my answer's the same. I let you be the violent one between us," the man returned in an easygoing tone, pecking her cheek.

"Don't you mean the strong one?" she said teasingly.

The man simply gave an affectionate smile, which she returned.

Then, draping an arm over her shoulder, the man looked at him and said with a polite smile, "Hello."

Without standing up or moving, Athrun had just been staring at their exchange all the while feeling like the world was crushing down on him.

Cagalli looked back at him and walked back toward him, her arm on the man's waist. "You two never met, right? This is Athrun, and this is—"

He was barely aware of her words. His attention and eyes were fixed on her face, her smile she gave the man: warm and bright. Warmer and brighter than the one she gave him.

He wanted the warmth. He wanted the brightness. He wanted the smile. He wanted her. More than anything.

But they weren't his. She wasn't his.

* * *

:


	2. in the light

:

* * *

 _"What should we have truly fought ag_ _a_ _inst? And how should we have fought it?"_

 _"She's crying now because she doesn't want something like this to happen. Why can't you see that?! And yet, you just say these battles, these casualties, this can't be helped, say everything's Orb and Cagalli's fault, and shoot what she's trying to protect right now?!"_

 _"You must be thinking, 'Why did things come to this? Why doesn't the world go the way I wish it to go?' and really frustrated."_

 _"What's wrong with playing roles?! If I...if I play properly, then it's all right I live like that, isn't it?!"_

 _"Whatever it is about, it is you who make the choice."_

 _"What Orb wishes for more than anything is peace. However, it's only with the condition that we have freedom and independence. We can't choose surrender or subordination."_

Many people's voices, including his own, were echoing in his head as he wandered through the island next day.

The weather was better today. The wind was gently caressing his cheeks. The sky was blue, with white puffy clouds here and there. Only it felt so bleak to him. His world was dark and cold like the sun was gone.

And yet, things were clearer to him. Now, as if his eyes had finally been opened, he could see many things he had not been able to before. What he had been missing. What was missing from Cagalli's eyes.

The thought brought to his mind the exchanges between her and the man—her boyfriend—he had witnessed since yesterday.

The way she touched him: familiarly and lovingly. The way he touched her: with such care and ease. The way she snuggled against him as if it was the safest place in the universe. The way he made her smile and laugh: with genuine joy and without a care in the world. The way he filled her face with so much warmth and brightness as if he was stoking up the fire within her. The way she reached out her hand in his direction without looking as if she had no doubt he would be there to receive her touch—and he would, holding or touching or stroking the hand almost unconsciously as if it was nothing special.

And most of all, her eyes when she looked at him. They were so full of trust that it hurt Athrun to see them.

What he wanted to have, but couldn't. What he wanted to give her, but couldn't.

A wave of loneliness, stronger than he had ever felt before, washed over him. He felt alone, and lost.

He knew she still loved him. He would never doubt it. He had never doubted her love for him, and he had realized that was why he had been able to decide to break up with her. Because he had known that he would never completely lose her. That if anything happened, she would still be there to help him. Like she had just comforted him about his breakup with Meyrin.

And she would always be there for him, loving him, he was sure.

What he had not realized before was that it didn't mean she wouldn't love someone else. It didn't mean she wouldn't choose someone else.

Yet, he had never really thought about the possibility. The possibility of her becoming completely out of his reach. Until it actually happened. Until seeing her with someone else.

He had been so stupid. He had not thought about so many things. Like her feelings, for instance.

He had believed that he had done many things for her sake. He had tried to protect her. He had tried to protect the Earth from the Genesis and the remains of Junius Seven partly because the planet was her home. He had rejoined ZAFT during the Second Bloody Valentine War partly because he thought that he could help Cagalli and Orb more by gaining more power and fighting for peace. He had tried to protect Orb in both wars partly because it was the country she loved.

However, he had never considered whether or not what he was doing, what he thought was good for her, was actually what she wanted or needed. Whether it was what she wanted him to do. Whether it would make her happy.

He had thought about doing something for her, but not really about her: her feelings, her wants, her needs. He had done things for her only because he wanted to do them. What he had been thinking about was always himself: his feelings, his wants, his needs. What he wanted to do for her. His wants to help and protect her and to do the right thing. His needs to feel useful and needed.

He had not thought about whether what he was doing was actually helping her as much as about whether it made him feel he was doing something for her. He had been frustrated at being her bodyguard because he couldn't feel he was being useful rather than because he couldn't help her. He had always focused on what made him feel good rather than what made her happy.

He had just wanted to give her what he wanted to give, not what she wanted or needed.

Even when he gave her the comfort and support she wanted and needed, he had not been doing it for her sake. Not entirely, at least. Because he had done it to control her, done it so that she would give him what he wanted, be what he wanted her to be, in return.

Like Dullindal had given him what he wanted—recognition, power, authority, praise—to control him, given them to him so that he would work for Dullindal and help the man's plan, be a loyal puppet Dullindal wanted him to be.

Then, he had stopped trying to protect her when she had made it clear that she wouldn't be what he wanted her to be. Like Dullindal had stopped treating, or pretending to treat, him as an equal ally and attempted to eliminate him when he had made it clear that he wouldn't obey Dullindal.

He had been no better than Dullindal. As the man had tried to make him his puppet, he had tried to make her his puppet.

A puppet wouldn't say what you didn't want to hear. A puppet would always do what you wanted them to. A puppet would never leave you, never make you fear abandonment. A puppet would have a life—or a semblance of life—only when you were around.

That was what he had wanted, what he had tried to acquire, from her. So that his wants and needs would be fulfilled.

It might not be exactly a bad thing to try to satisfy his own needs. His mistake, however, was that he had deluded himself he was doing things for other people's sake, unable to admit his reason was selfish at least partly; and that he had expected other people—her—to repay him for what he had done for mostly himself. Ignoring his own selfishness, or at least self-centeredness, he had become even more selfish.

And that was why he had almost always ended up making her worried, upset, or sad, sometimes even hurting her. You couldn't truly protect someone unless you considered their feelings, what they wanted, what was important to them. It was no wonder that he had not really been able to protect her, or help her.

He had not been able to accomplish what he was trying to do, what he wanted to do. Not as much as he wanted to. Not in the way he wanted to.

He had not been able to when he was working as her bodyguard, being by her side but without much power. He had not been able to when he was back in ZAFT, having more power but being far away from her and fighting against what she cared about. It had seemed that he had never been able to give her what he wanted to give.

And he had not liked it. He had not been able to admit he didn't have what it took to truly protect her, at least not yet. He had not been able to accept he wasn't able to give her true help and protection unless he grew up.

It was painful to admit that you couldn't protect whom you wanted to, couldn't accomplish what you wanted to do, couldn't acquire what you wanted. That there was something you needed to obtain, something you were lacking. It was tough to acknowledge you weren't the person who could fulfil your wish, the person you wanted to believe yourself to be.

To just give up and run was so much easier than to accept the painful truth—the reality—and patiently work for your dream, than to fight yourself to become a person you wished to be.

And it was what he had done. He had run away from what he wanted. He had run away from her. He had run away from himself.

He had looked away instead of accepting how he really was, accepting himself as he was. He had chosen to abandon trying to protect her so that he wouldn't have to face what he was lacking, what he couldn't do.

And as much as he had not been able to accept who he was, or because of that, he had not been able to accept who she was.

Part of why he had tried to make her abandon Orb was it would become easier for him to protect her then. He had not had enough power to protect Chief Representative Athha or Cagalli Yula Athha; protecting her included protecting Orb, which was too much for a bodyguard and impossible for a ZAFT soldier and took him a lot of patience and effort even as an Orb soldier. But he had been able to protect just Cagalli. Or at least he had thought he could, though it might not be true.

And it didn't matter anyway, he now understood. It didn't matter because he could never cut half of her off and take what was left. She was both an Athha and just Cagalli. Both parts were an essential part of the woman he loved. If he wanted her, he should have accepted her as a whole. If he wanted to protect her, he should have tried to protect every part of her.

The defiant stranger he had been stranded on the island with. The compassionate person who had saved his heart. The vulnerable girl who had been suffering from the loss of her father. The selfless friend who had tried to comfort him even if it reminded her of her own pain. The tough fighter who had been willing to protect him rather than be protected by him. The devoted leader who had tried to protect her country even at the cost of her happiness, even at the cost of their relationship.

They were all a part of her. He couldn't just pick up some parts he liked and deny the rest, mold her into what he wanted her to be.

Yet, all the time he had tried to protect her—the time he had believed he was trying to protect her, what he actually had been doing was trying to separate her into just Cagalli and Cagalli Yula Athha, the part he wanted and the part he didn't, and protect the former while trying to discard the latter.

And it was what had cost him her trust, what had resulted in the end of their relationship.

Their breakup had not been about Orb as he had believed. It had been about her, and him. Always. About what kind of persons they were.

He had always thought he wanted her to choose him over Orb. But it wasn't the choice he had actually made her face. The choice had been between him and herself. He had tried to make her choose being with him over being who she was.

She had really had no other option but to choose to break up with him as long as she was herself, as long as she was the Cagalli he knew, the Cagalli he loved.

What he had felt yesterday during the conversation with her was right. She had not exactly changed since the day he had met her. She had always been trying to fight, to help and protect those she cared about. Whether it was Orb or him or other people. Whether he liked it or not. Whether he approved it or not.

She had just been living her life, being herself. Whether she was doing things he liked or things he didn't like, whether her actions were matching his wishes or contradicting them.

Just because she did what pleased him one day and what angered him the next, it didn't mean she had changed. Just because the object of her care and attention changed, it didn't mean she had become a different person. She was just showing a different side of her.

Just because she couldn't fulfill his wish, it didn't mean her love wasn't enough. There were things you couldn't bring yourself to do, which varied from one person to another. Because people were different. Because they were people, not puppets or some kind of mass-produced objects.

And just because she wasn't what he wanted her to be, it didn't mean they couldn't be happy together. They could have been if he had been able to accept her entirely. If he had been able to accept Orb.

Accepting Orb as a part of her had been the only way he could have had a happy life with her, he finally understood.

Being happy didn't mean that you got every one of your wishes fulfilled. Now he could see that he couldn't have become happy even if she had fulfilled his wish and abandoned Orb for him. He probably would have been as unhappy as he was now, or possibly unhappier even. Because then she would have become unhappy, having abandoned who she was. He couldn't have become happy by ruining the happiness of the person he loved, by destroying her. He would have lost her in one way or another as long as he tried to make that wish of his come true.

And probably they couldn't have had a happy life if she had asked him to stay with her, either. Having a life with Cagalli Yula Athha was far from easy. He probably wouldn't have been able to fight through the tough battle if he kept thinking he was doing it just because she had asked him to, just for her sake, rather than for his own sake, for his own happiness, for the life he himself wanted. Without his own will and wish to keep fighting.

He couldn't have become the partner of Cagalli Yula Athha without clear understanding of what it meant, strong willingness to make the hard effort, and firm determination to fight through the battle, none of which he had had.

Even when he was helping her fight for Orb, he had never been her partner who shared her burden and fought together with her. Not just because he had not had enough power and position. He had been so primarily because it was what he was trying to be.

Only a lover who offered some support which he meant was temporary and conditional.

He had never tried to become more, at least not in the way that allowed her to be who she was. Therefore, he had never been able to become more.

And she had seen through him, seen that he wasn't willing, and perhaps not capable, to share her life. That he wasn't a person with whom she could be fully herself.

Then she had accepted that it was the kind of person he was, accepted him as he was instead of trying to change him.

He had turned his back to the battlefield where she was fighting instead of going out there to fight along with her, help her and protect her. And she had let him go instead of dragging him to where he didn't wish to be. To where she wished to reach.

She wasn't the kind of person who would drag someone to the battlefield when they weren't willing to fight. Nor the kind of person who tried to make someone abandon their own wishes and fulfill her wishes instead.

He had wished and chosen to not change, to not fight, and she had respected it. As always. She had protected his freedom to choose his own way, own future, believing he was capable of figuring out his happiness and finding the way.

He couldn't blame her for believing in him, for respecting his will and choices. He couldn't say she should have restrained him so that he wouldn't have to choose anything and take responsibility for it. He couldn't be that childish, even though he had realized he was much more immature than he had believed.

Nor could he blame her for having found a trustworthy partner in someone else. Having found someone she deserved.

Someone who could share her heavy burden, not someone who tried to make her throw it away. Someone who could fight together with her, not someone who tried to keep her away from her own battle or left her to fight alone. Someone who could be her equal, not someone who tried to control her. Someone who could strengthen her by helping her be herself, not someone who weakened her by denying who she was, denying her will and wishes. Someone who could walk forward with her, not someone who tried to detain her so that he didn't have to move forward.

Someone she could trust as well as love.

He might have been able to become that kind of person. He might have been able to be the one who gave her happiness.

But he had chosen not to. He had chosen not to even try to become like that. He had chosen not to fight to become the kind of person he wanted to be.

He was the one who had decided he couldn't protect her unless she abandoned Orb. He was the one who had decided to not try to protect her anymore because she wouldn't fulfill his wish. He was the one who had given up, on them and on himself.

He was the one who had chosen to stick to what he had been taught, what other people said, instead of trying to find his own way.

Yes, that was probably his biggest problem: following other people's words too much instead of thinking and deciding for himself.

He had tried to make Cagalli listen to him and follow him, put him first and fulfill his wishes, be obediently protected by him—because she was his girlfriend. Because it was how he thought a girlfriend should be. How he had been taught a girl should be.

It was the happiness he had been told to want.

He had been taught that he should do what he was expected to do, what other people wanted him to do. That it was the happiness to be wanted and needed. So he had abandoned what he actually wanted and needed, because it didn't give him what other people said was happiness. He had left the person he loved because she was different from an ideal girlfriend.

A girlfriend who would abandon anything for him—her job or country or other people that mattered to her—and always stayed by his side to take care of him, as if she had no life beyond their relationship. A girlfriend who wanted and needed him desperately enough.

A girlfriend who fulfilled his need to feel wanted and needed.

It was what he had chosen.

Breaking up had not been just Cagalli's decision. It had been his, too. He had chosen something other than their relationship as much as she had. Their only difference was probably that she had clearly known what she was choosing while he had not known his.

Thus he had made the wrong choice.

Instead of struggling to create a new path, his own path, and move forward, he had chosen to stay in a place where he could keep living as he had been doing. A quiet place where he needed to face no trouble, no hardship, no struggle—because there was nothing that could stir his feelings, touch his heart, there. A place where nothing happened and nothing changed.

You struggled because you wanted something, because of your feelings and desires, because of your heart. Running away from struggles meant running away from your heart. Running away from changes meant running away from growing up.

It was still an easy way and there might be many people who chose it; maybe some people found their happiness there even. However, it didn't mean that it was right for him. That it was the happiness for him.

He should have thought more seriously about his happiness. What made him happy. What was most important to him. Which he wanted more: being with Cagalli or having a girlfriend who put him before everything else. Whether having an easy, peaceful life was worth losing Cagalli.

Yet he hadn't.

He had obtained what he had chosen. He had had someone who played the role of ideal girlfriend until recently. He had an easier and more peaceful life, a life that didn't require as much effort or patience from him. Without even losing Cagalli from his life. Without losing her care and support and love, on top of it. He had everything he had asked for.

Only to find that it wasn't enough. That it wasn't what he wanted most. That it wasn't making him happy.

And he had no one else to blame for his ignorance. His misery was no one's fault but his own.

He thought of the ring with a red gem which had been buried deep in one of the drawers of his desk at his apartment. He had not been able to stand seeing it, but had not been able to stand disposing of it, either.

He had always blamed Cagalli for taking off the ring, for abandoning their happy future, for taking it away from him. However, now he understood what she had done was the opposite. At least when she had decided to take off his ring in the end of the Second Bloody Valentine War. By doing so, by rejecting his chain, she had protected the possibility they could have a happy future. He was the one who had not pursued the possibility, and therefore had killed the future.

What she had protected wasn't just that. By returning the ring to him and parting ways with him, she had prevented them from going the wrong way which led to a future where they were unhappy together. A future where he would be always frustrated because his girlfriend wasn't how he wanted her to be and she would be always suffering because her boyfriend didn't accept her as she was. She had protected their happiness, the possibility they could be happy even if separately.

To be honest, he didn't know whether going "the wrong way" was worse than going separate ways. A part of him was wishing they had stayed together even if it meant they would be miserable and maybe blaming each other for their situation and hating each other. Some people might still be able to find their happiness in the unhappiness. He might be able to.

However, he knew painfully well that she wouldn't choose it. She preferred to be happy separately than to be unhappy together. It was the kind of person she was. And it was probably partly why he had fallen for her, and partly why he had wanted to have her under his control.

Because he had always known that she would leave him if it was necessary. That she was strong enough.

She was a strong person. Strong enough to accept that he, someone she loved, couldn't accept her as she was. Strong enough to still choose to be herself. Strong enough to figure out what she needed and take it. Strong enough to still believe in the possibility of finding what she wanted. Strong enough to recover from the pain.

Strong enough to keep walking forward and obtain her happiness.

She had not let their breakup make her unhappy, let him ruin her like that. She had spared him the guilt—and the satisfaction of dominating her life that way—whether consciously or unconsciously. She was too strong, and probably too loving, for letting such a thing happen.

He loved her for it. He hated her for it.

He wished she weren't so strong. Nor so forgiving and accepting.

If she had not forgiven him for not being what she wanted him to be, if she had been wanting him to change, if she was still stuck with their past because of her anger or regret, then she wouldn't have moved on. She wouldn't be with someone else. He might still have a chance to get her back.

But it wasn't how she was. It had never been who she was.

His lips briefly curved into a bitter smile. Even now, even after realizing how wrong it was, he still wanted to alter her to his liking.

He had wanted her to be how he wanted her to be always, even if his demands were impossibly contradicting.

He had wanted her to be strong enough to be able to fight alone when he decided to leave her side, but not strong enough to be able to keep fighting without him. He had wanted her to be defiant enough to be able to refuse a political marriage, but not defiant enough to reject his control. He had wanted her to be selfless enough to put him before her, but not selfless enough to sacrifice their relationship for the sake of something else that mattered to her. He had wanted her to be passionate enough to stir up his feelings, but not passionate enough to devote herself to her job and her duty. He had wanted her to be compassionate enough to give him care and support no matter what, but not compassionate enough to give as much care and support to something other than him.

However, he couldn't control her strength, her defiance, her selflessness, her passion, or her compassion. He couldn't dictate when she should show them and when she shouldn't, tell her to be like that when he wanted her to be and not to be like that when he didn't want her to be. He couldn't decide how she should be. She was the only one who could and should decide it.

Because she wasn't his puppet. She wasn't anyone's puppet. She didn't live to please anyone.

If he had truly realized what it meant, he might have been able to avoid becoming someone she had to protect herself from. He might have been able to become someone who could truly protect her.

But it was too late now.

He balled his hands into fists. For the umpteenth time, his mind wandered back to their breakup.

Then, her voice echoed in his ears. _"A_ _nd_ _…_ _be happy_ _."_ The warm smile of hers flashed in his head.

His chest tightened. A part of him still didn't want to admit it, but he knew she had decided to break up partly because she wanted him to be happy. Because she loved him. She had made the decision in order to protect his happiness as well as her own.

She had not tried to change herself to fit his ideal. She had not tried to change him to fit her ideal. Instead, she had chosen to change the form of their relationship so that they could be themselves. So that they could be part of each other's life, which both of them wanted, without ruining their lives and happiness. The only way left for them to live happily together when their dreams, the lives and futures they wanted, were so different.

She had seen it long before he did.

Although her decision apparently had not resulted in his happiness, it wasn't her fault. She wasn't the one responsible for his happiness, the one to figure out what he needed to be happy and pursue it. It was his own job, and she couldn't do it in his stead. She couldn't tell him what was his happiness or which path was right for him. It would be the same as what Dullindal had tried to do. All she could do was help him have what he wanted, what he chose, what he thought made him happy, and she had been doing it more than enough, more than generously.

After the First Bloody Valentine War during which she had saved his life, she had given him the Orb citizenship even though under an alias, along with a place to live and a job. Without her help, he might have had nowhere to go since the PLANT Supreme Council had been unwilling to allow him to return. He might have had to suffer from having nothing to do and living aimlessly.

Of course, it had not been solely for his sake. He knew she had been as happy to have him around as he was to be around her. He had also offered his help to her as a bodyguard, even if only a little.

Either way, she had helped him build a new life. Although the life had not satisfied him, it had been the best she could do under the circumstances.

And yet, he had easily abandoned what she had given him and rejoined ZAFT in the beginning of the Second Bloody Valentine War. He had even made the decision while working as a messenger from the Chief Representative of Orb, the positon she had given him so that he could do what he wanted to. And on top of that, he had not told her, his superior, about his decision before he actually joined another country's military.

It had been considered as a betrayal by some people in the Orb government and military, and he might have been charged with it or at least constrained to keep working as an Orb soldier in exchange for not being punished. But Cagalli had won him immunity for it, persuading others to allow him to leave the military with no penalty, like she had with his defection from ZAFT and Meyrin's. She had made a great effort to clean up his mess.

She had taken care of his and Meyrin's lives after the war just as she had of his after the previous war, offering them the Orb citizenships and jobs. So that he and Meyrin could have more options. So that they could freely choose their future—stay in Orb, return to PLANT, or go somewhere else—and enjoy their lives without being burdened much with what they had done during the war. So that he didn't have to suffer much from his past actions. So that they could be happy.

So that he could be happy.

She had provided them with the best protection she could give. She had even offered new jobs after he had left the Orb's military. Although it was a different person who had actually made the job offers from Morgenrote, he had sensed Cagalli had pulled some strings for him since he knew the woman—Erica Simmons—was close to her. Kira had also mentioned that Cagalli, as well as Kira himself and Lacus, was concerned about what Athrun was going to do after leaving the Orb's military.

He had not been so eager to take the offer at first. He had wondered if it wasn't better for him to leave Orb. But he had not felt comfortable going back to PLANT, and a part of him had felt like staying in Orb though he didn't know why.

Furthermore, the job in Morgenrote had seemed appealing. He could work in the field of robotics, which he had always found of interest since childhood; he could also contribute to protecting Orb and the peace by working in the company, without actually fighting. Also, they had said they highly valued his abilities and wanted him very much, which they wouldn't say if there was no truth in it even with Cagalli's intervention; he had known she wouldn't pressure them that much. He had not known what he should do or wanted to do with his life, where to go, and eventually had decided to give it a try, go to the place where he was wanted and needed.

All his current life was founded on Cagalli's generosity. Without her help, he probably wouldn't be working his current job, which had been satisfying him enough and supporting him. He might be wandering from one place to another, wanting to settle somewhere but couldn't. He might be even in jail. Or he might be suffering because he had ruined Meyrin's life, causing her to be prisoned or banned from her home country, to which she had returned after breaking up with him.

Not that Cagalli was the only person who had protected him. And he, and Meyrin, deserved at least part of what she had given them for they had fought for and protected Orb.

Yet, it didn't change the fact Cagalli had done a generous thing for them. And it certainly didn't mean they—he didn't need to be grateful.

Especially since he knew Cagalli would have done the same thing anyway even if they had not done anything for Orb or her. After all, she had accepted them and promised to take care of Meyrin, of his mess, of him, before either he or Meyrin showed their willingness to fight on her side. He was sure she would have kept her word even if they had not fought.

Nevertheless, he had never really appreciated what Cagalli had done for him, even after the Second Bloody Valentine War, even after he had been given what he had abandoned again, and more. He had simply received her generosity without so much as thanking her. As if she was doing nothing special.

Partly because he had known she would give it to him with no condition. Whether he did something to deserve it or not. Whether he was her boyfriend or not. Whether they were in a relationship or in love with someone else or not. Whether he thanked her or not. Whether he appreciated it or not. Whether he noticed it or not, even.

She gave because she cared and loved. She helped and protected him because she wanted to and she thought he needed it. She had always been like that, forgiving him, accepting him, caring about him, and trying to help him. Even when they had been more or less strangers. Even when she had believed he had killed her friend. That was who she was.

Since she had given him the Haumea's amulet, he had always known, at least deep down, that she would forgive him and accept him no matter what. And she had. Even after he had hurt her. Even after he had harmed what was important to her. Even after he had left her alone. She had still kept giving him everything she could. No matter what he had or hadn't done, she had still kept loving him.

So he had just taken it for granted. So much so that he had never imagined the possibility of losing it, losing her.

His lack of appreciation stemmed also from the fact that what she had done for him wasn't really special in a way. It wasn't what she gave only to him. He had known she would give it to other people as well. She _had_. She had been doing everything she could do to help her family, friends, and comrades. What she gave him wasn't much different from what she gave to others, which was frustrating to him.

He had wanted more. He had wanted her to treat him differently. He had wanted her to give him something special. He had wanted her to give him more than she did to other people.

He had wanted something she wouldn't give anyone else, or anything else like Orb—and the desire had cost him the very opportunity he could have it. The right to share her burden and her life. The position of her life partner. Her trust he could be that.

He had not wanted to lose her to anything so much that he had lost the most important part of his relationship with her.

He had focused too much on what she didn't give him, what he didn't have, and ended up losing what he had.

He had once had her trust. That was why she had accepted his ring. Because she had believed he could, and was willing to, be someone who could share her life.

Even when love remained unchanged, however, trust could be lost. You didn't have to earn love. It could just be given to you. But trust wasn't. You had to earn it. You had to make an effort and prove that you deserved it.

Which he hadn't. Instead, he had kept proving to her otherwise. And he had received what he deserved. It was simply fair of her not to trust someone who didn't consider her feelings, didn't care about what was important to her, and didn't accept her just as she was. At least not as her partner. She probably still trusted him as a friend and comrade. But it wasn't enough. It wasn't exactly what he wanted.

She was like a fire guiding and protecting people in the darkness—guiding and protecting him. But it was no longer his job to protect her, support her, comfort her, and warm her at her side, to help her keep the fire in her burning. He didn't have the right to do it anymore. Her side wasn't his place anymore. All he could do now was watch the bright fire from afar, longing for the warmth and brightness he could never get back, in his dull and empty world. Always.

He felt hollow, as if a large part of him was missing—no, lost. It was gone. The hole in his chest wasn't repairable. He could never escape from this despair now.

He would give anything if he could turn back the hands of time and return to the day he had broken up with her, if he could undo his mistake. But he couldn't.

His feet stopped. Without realizing, he had come near the garden—or more like a clearing—in front of the orphanage. He could hear children's voices—and her voice.

Slowly, he resumed walking. He came to a point where he could see the garden clearly, and found her. Along with her boyfriend.

As much as it hurt him to see them together, he couldn't take his eyes off them.

Cagalli, her boyfriend, and several children seemed to be setting tables around the garden. She was talking with her boyfriend. She pouted at something he said. He ruffled her hair with a smile. She swatted his hand, but gave a laugh.

The happy sound was almost painful to Athrun's ears.

It might be he who was there with her. It might be he that made her laugh like that, made her happy like that. If only he had chosen a different way.

It might have been possible if he had realized what he wanted most earlier. Even after the meeting in which they had officially broken up, he might have still had a chance. From what he had heard, she had met her boyfriend about a year after their breakup, and the relationship had not started until a month ago. He might have been able to win back her heart if he had put a serious effort into figuring out the way to his happiness, his answer, instead of just waiting for someone—or some kind of supernatural power like fate—to tell him the answer. If he had confronted his feelings instead of running away from them. If he had tried to face up to the reality instead of trying to look away until the circumstances required him to do so. If he had listened to his heart instead of what other people said.

Under his gaze, Cagalli turned in his direction. Their eyes met. His heart fluttered.

She said something to her boyfriend and came running toward Athrun. She smiled at him, unaware of his misery. No, she was aware of it, and trying to cheer him up. She just didn't know the reason why he felt so miserable, because she didn't know he still loved her and wanted her, didn't know how much he did.

He couldn't expect her to know what he had done nothing to show or prove, or maybe what he had done everything to deny. He couldn't blame her for not knowing what he didn't tell her.

People wouldn't conveniently sense what you wanted them to know without your telling it to them and give you what you wanted, sparing you the effort to communicate. People wouldn't conveniently act as you wish them to, like keeping helplessly and obediently waiting for him to come back even when his actions said nothing but that he wouldn't, or throwing away her current happiness and running back to him once he finally realized his answer and wanted her back. As if they existed and lived for your sake.

It wasn't their fault. They weren't your puppet at your disposal, your tool to make your life convenient, or your reward waiting to be picked up and praise you for having found your answer. They were a human being just as you, and had their own life and happiness.

So he didn't want her to know his feelings. He couldn't control her behavior. They weren't bound to each other by anything. The only thing that connected them was their love for each other. The only reason they were still in each other's life was because they wanted to.

She was in his life and gave him love and care and comfort only because she wanted to, which meant she could stop doing it anytime she wanted to. She could be completely gone from his life if she chose to. She was free to do anything she wanted to do.

She might distance herself from him if she found out his feelings for her, thinking it was for the best. He didn't think she would completely cut him out of her life, but she still might try to reduce her interactions with him, limit them to when she thought he really needed her help.

He couldn't bear losing even more of the time with her, more of her. He wanted her in his life as much and as long as possible, even if only as a friend. Being her friend, he could still have a tiny share of her fire, its heat and light, though it would never be enough. But it still filled the hole in his chest, if only briefly, if only partly. The sun would still shine on his bleak world from time to time though it was beyond his reach.

She reached him and asked whether he wanted to join them. He forced a small smile and said yes. A relieved smile spread over her face, which squeezed his chest and made him want to hug her. But he suppressed the urge with all his might.

He couldn't risk her friendship. It was all he could have now, and he just clung to it. He would keep holding onto it. It was the only way left for him now.

A part of him was thankful that they weren't alone since the presence of other people automatically made him take a tighter hold on his emotions, which was his nature. It would be tougher for him to act like friends with her if they were alone, and thus increase the risk of losing her.

Another part of him was longing to have more private—intimate—time with her. But he didn't have the right to ask for it anymore.

Pulling his arm, she threw a happy smile at her boyfriend. The man returned the smile, sharing her happiness. Her smile became even brighter, so bright that it hurt Athrun's hollow eyes.

* * *

 **The End**

* * *

 **A/N** : The Athrun in this fic is more childish than the Athrun in the series, or the Athrun in my other fics. He hasn't learned much from his experiences in GS and GSD.

This is what I think would likely happen if they broke up in GSD partly because in my opinion, Cagalli rather focuses on the present and the future while Athrun tends to live in the past.

I also believe Cagalli made those decisions of hers in the end of GSD because she wanted to be happy even if it meant losing Athrun (if you like to know more about my opinion on this point, you can read "The Ring"). It doesn't guarantee she'll never regret the decisions, of course. But at least she would know she did what she thought was best for her happiness and be able to try again, learning from past experiences. It's the kind of person I think she is.

On the other hand, Athrun tends to suppress his feelings and therefore be oblivious to his own feelings including what he wants. Furthermore, he is usually hesitant to act on emotions. He is much less likely to know what he wants or go for it, which I believe are important to be happy, than Cagalli. Therefore, in this fic, he ends up abandoning what he wants most and regretting his decision.

Anyway, I disclose some information on my next fic since the fic and this fic form a kind of pair (though they are in different universes). It's an AC proposal fic and called "Long, Long Time"; it will be uploaded on March 7. I hope you'll read that one, too.

If you are willing to read other fics of mine, my recommendation would be "Fall of Destiny," the Dullindal fic. It's also quite connected with this fic in a way, and hopefully will help you understand this fic better.

Well, thank you for reading. If you have reviewed my other fics, thank you for that, too.

···

In case you are confused about where the lines I used in the story come from, I note below who said it and in which episode it was said (in the remastered version):

"What should we have truly fought against? And how should we have fought it?" (Athrun; GS episode 38, and mentioned in GSD episode 8)

"She's crying now because she doesn't want something like this to happen. Why can't you see that?! And yet, you just say these battles, these casualties, this can't be helped, say everything's Orb and Cagalli's fault, and shoot what she's trying to protect right now?!" (Kira; GSD episode 28)

"You must be thinking, 'Why did things come to this? Why doesn't the world go the way I wish it to go?' and really frustrated." (Dullindal; GSD episode 36)

"What's wrong with playing roles?! If I...if I play properly, then it's all right I live like that, isn't it?!" (Meer; GSD episode 36)

"Whatever it is about, it is you who make the choice." (Lacus; GSD episode 41)

"What Orb wishes for more than anything is peace. However, it's only with the condition that we have freedom and independence. We can't choose surrender or subordination." (Cagalli; GSD episode 44)

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 ***edited 03/10/19***


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